Stuck Landing

by Lauren Gallagher

  I snorted and clapped a hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” She laughed. “And, I guess I can see why he confused his penis with an eraser. It was pink, he tried to rub it on everything, and it was about the same size as—”

  We both erupted into giggles.

  “Okay, okay . . .” She wiped her eyes, still laughing. “He wasn’t that bad. But he really didn’t like being with someone who didn’t go along with his every whim.”

  “I can’t imagine how you two lasted a year.”

  She eyed me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I’ve been working with you long enough to know that anyone who thinks you’re just going to demurely smile, nod, and go along with their every whim is going to be quickly disabused of that notion.” I paused. “And I can’t believe I actually said all of that clearly. Do I sound as drunk as I feel?”

  “I don’t know.” She sat up again, and her lips pulled back in a grin that made my spine tingle. “How drunk do you feel?”

  Drunk enough to read more into that grin than I probably should?

  “Well, I can still talk. Not sure if I can stand.”

  “Standing is overrated. Drinking, however . . .” Natalya picked up the bottle and poured us each some more. I was going to decline, but she only filled the glasses about halfway and didn’t pour us each two like I’d done the first couple of rounds.

  Then she slid one toward me. Oh hell. What was one more shot? After she’d salted her finger, I did the same.

  She raised her glass. “To exes being better as exes.”

  “Cheers.” I clinked my glass against hers. Licked my finger. Threw back the tequila. Got distracted by her sucking on the lime, and nearly forgot to do the same. I shook myself and tore my gaze away from her. “You ever wonder why we stay with people like that? Such a fucking waste of time.”

  “It really is.” She scooted closer to me, crossing the narrow gap between our respective cushions so now we were on the same one. My skin tingled and my toes curled beneath the coffee table, but somehow, I managed to keep from visibly squirming. Or moving toward her to close that sliver of space all the way.

  “It’s so funny,” she said. “We’ve worked together all this time, and I don’t think we’ve ever talked before. About . . . not work.”

  “And now your first impression of me is when I’m getting drunk.”

  She picked up the bottle. “So am I, so we’re even.”

  I put up a hand. “No more for me.”

  Shrugging, she poured her own, and I watched, mesmerized, as she licked, sipped, sucked. Some of the tequila—or maybe the lime juice—landed on her hand. She licked that off too, completely oblivious to what she was doing to my drunk, sexually depraved—deprived—brain.

  “Whoa.” She wavered a little. “Okay, now I’m feeling it.”

  “You’re just now feeling it?” I slurred. “I’ve been drunk since we opened the bottle.”

  “Lightweight.” She giggled again, which should not have sent my blood pressure soaring like that.

  “You say ‘lightweight.’ I say ‘cheap date.’”

  She laughed, patting my thigh as if there was no reason to believe that would make me even dizzier than good old Jose Cuervo already had. “I like that. Cheap date.”

  “Most people do. And if . . . if you get too drunk, I can call . . . call you a cab when you want to go.” I wasn’t that drunk. Why was I struggling to form words? Oh right. Because I was that drunk. “Or if you want to take my bed, I can crash on the couch.”

  “Your bed sounds good.”

  And before the words had even sunk in, Natalya grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me.

  I almost melted right there in Natalya’s arms.

  Maybe it was the tequila, or maybe I just hadn’t been kissed in way too long, but her lips woke up nerves I’d forgotten existed. Her cool fingers drifted up into my hair, and her tongue softly parted my lips. Two seconds into this, and my spine was already tingling, my long-neglected clit already aching for attention.

  She was exactly my kind of kisser—not overwhelmingly aggressive, but she knew what she wanted, and she claimed it, whether it was a handful of hair or enough access to my mouth that she could intertwine her tongue with mine. My head was so light and spinning so fast, it was impossible to say where the tequila ended and her kiss began. I was drunk on something, though.

  Abruptly, I broke the kiss, and holy shit, I was out of breath. “This . . . wasn’t what I had in mind when I suggested drinks.”

  Her eyes narrowed as her lips—God, her lips were delicious—curved into a wicked grin. “It was what I had in mind when I took you up on it.”

  Oh really? So great minds do think alike.

  “You should have said so.” Should’ve mentioned you were into women in the first place. “You didn’t have to get me drunk.”

  She laughed. “I wasn’t getting you drunk so I could kiss you.”

  “Then why—”

  She cut me off with a kiss, and it didn’t matter why we were drunk or why she hadn’t skipped the tequila and dragged me straight to bed. She was kissing me now. The rest was just details.

  Natalya tightened her grip on my hair, pulled my head back, descended on my neck, and . . .

  Oh God, yes. Good thing I’d passed on that last shot, because there was no way in hell tonight was ending without both of us naked, and if I were any drunker, I’d either ruin it or not remember it. And I wanted to remember everything. Every taste of her, every sharp rush of breath across my skin, every orgasm—something about her eager, determined kiss told me there would be plenty of orgasms tonight.

  Twisting toward her like this was taking its toll on my hips, and my tired thigh muscles were starting to protest. The solution to that was easy, though—I nudged her back against the couch and moved on top of her, straddling her. My lower body wasn’t thrilled with the motion, but Natalya slid her hands over my hips and into my back pockets, and I decided I could live with the screaming muscles as long as she cupped my ass like that while she kissed me.

  I came up for air again and touched my forehead to hers. “I didn’t . . .” I licked my lips. “I didn’t realize you were into women.”

  Natalya laughed, the soft huff tickling my lips. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

  “That’s . . . that’s probably true. But this part—liking women—seems kind of, uh, relevant right now.”

  “Mm-hmm. It does.” She kissed me again, and nothing about her kiss suggested she wanted a conversation. Perfectly fine by me.

  Her hands left my pockets and moved upward, beneath my shirt. As her warm, callused hands drifted across my bare skin, I whimpered into the kiss. My spine arched as if it had a mind of its own, and it took all the focus I had to keep on kissing her when the little shivers and shudders kept trying to make me throw my head back.

  Then she broke the kiss and tugged at my shirt. “This is in the way.” Her accent seemed even sharper. “Sit up.”

  I did, and she pushed my shirt up and off. I leaned back in, and before our lips had even met again, her hand was over my clothed breast. Her nail traced a circle around my nipple, and . . . Oh fuck, I needed her fingers on my skin.

  Still kissing her, I reached back and unsnapped my bra. She grabbed the front and damn near tore it off, and I gasped as her slightly rough hands met my nipple. She pinched it, but the pain was more intense than I liked, and I stiffened. Instantly, without me needing to break the kiss and say a word, she backed off. She still touched me, still circled my nipple with her thumb, but gently now, and that brief pain dulled as her soft touch and passionate kiss took over my senses.

  Though she was careful with my nipples, that was the only place she backed off. Her kiss was still demanding. I loved the way she pressed against me, explored my mouth, tugged my hair. I wasn’t at all surprised she was so aggressive. I was just surprised to be the target of that aggression. And tu
rned on as hell. Oh my God. The only sex I’d had in recent memory had been makeup sex, and even that had become half-assed. This . . . was not.

  And once again, Natalya grabbed my hair, tilted my head back, and kissed my neck. How did she know that was my do this and I’m your slave forever kink? Who’d told her? How’d she get so far into my head already and—

  Shit, who cared?

  I gripped her shoulders and tilted my head as far as I could without breaking my neck. She wrapped her other arm around me, pulling me down and holding me there as she explored my neck with lips, tongue, teeth. Every time her teeth grazed my flesh, my breath caught. Just like every time she flicked her tongue or kissed my skin with her soft lips or found some deliciously erogenous zone that hadn’t had enough attention in ages.

  And the best part was, she just . . . did it. She wanted this. She wanted me. I didn’t have to beg her to do the things I liked. I wasn’t used to a woman who took control like this. I wasn’t used to liking it. And, oh fuck, I did like it. A lot.

  Please, let this be a long night.

  I rubbed against her, but there were too many damned clothes in the way. As much as I loved what she was doing to my neck, I wanted to see her gorgeous body with nothing covering her up. I wanted to rub against her and feel skin and warmth, not . . . jeans.

  “You know . . .” Air. Need air. I took a few breaths, which was a challenge with her teasing my nerve endings within an inch of their lives. “You know, my bed is a lot more comfortable than this couch.”

  “Is it?” She lifted her head. “Show me.”

  I nodded. Then, with as much grace as possible with a head full of Cuervo and a body full of exhausted muscles, I got up. Once I was off her lap, she stood too, her movements way too steady and controlled for someone who’d helped me kill that much tequila. Solid on her feet, she extended her hand and grinned, her blue eyes echoing the order to show her my bed.

  I took her hand, and carefully started toward the stairs. My aching legs were . . . well, they were under me. I didn’t know how reliable they were, but so far so good. Even as the floor tilted beneath me, I kept going. Falling on my ass was a risk I was willing to take. We’d do this on the floor if it came to that. As long as I wound up naked with her, the rest would work itself out.

  I hesitated on the first step, making sure I really did have the balance for that kind of complicated operation. When I’d made it past that one without incident—and Natalya effortlessly followed because apparently she was immune to tequila—I picked up speed.

  I’ve got this. I can do this. We—

  Halfway up the stairs, she tugged my arm, and the next thing I knew, I was pinned to the wall with her lips against mine.

  Oh God. Oh God, yes . . .

  She started toward my neck again, but I beat her to it this time. I pushed her back against the opposite wall, pinned her with my hips, and I kissed her neck. Her skin was so deliciously hot and soft, and when I nipped her gently, she shuddered. The faint salt, the scent of shampoo in her recently washed hair—one taste of her, one breath of her, and suddenly I needed to taste her all over.

  I pressed my teeth into the side of her neck, and Natalya swore in Russian. I assumed. It sounded profane, that was for sure. I bit her again, and she squirmed, moaning more words I couldn’t understand. Jesus, I hoped she was as turned on as she sounded, because I sure was.

  And I needed her naked. Quickly. Now.

  I undid the top button on her blouse, and it fell open enough to reveal the red lace bra underneath. Had she deliberately worn something hot because she’d planned on us having sex? Or did she dress that way all the time? Not like it mattered—either option turned me on.

  I opened the next button. As I slid my hand beneath her shirt and cupped her breast, she kissed me again. With my thumbnail, I traced her nipple through the thin fabric, and was rewarded with a soft whimper and a subtle but unmistakable shudder.

  Somehow, I remembered how to work the rest of her shirt and managed to unbutton it enough to pull the whole thing over her head. It landed somewhere on the stairs. Didn’t matter. It was gone. And . . . why weren’t we in bed yet?

  We continued up the stairs, but I couldn’t move my feet and kiss her and undo her bra strap at the same time, so I leaned against the wall again. She pulled away just long enough to toss her bra . . . wherever.

  God, finally. I covered her breasts with my hands, my whole body hot and tingling with arousal as I put my hands on the woman I’d been fantasizing about for way too long. She was more perfect than she had any right to be, and her breasts were no exception. Exactly the right size to fit in my hands, as perky as any thirtysomething woman’s breasts could be, with rock-hard nipples I couldn’t resist circling with my thumbs.

  She broke the kiss, pulling in a sharp breath. “Bed?”

  “Bed.”

  We continued up the stairs and into my bedroom, which I could have sworn wasn’t that far down the hallway. But whatever, we were there now. We exchanged glances and both started stripping off what was left of our clothes. Using some sort of witchcraft I’d never understood, she shimmied out of her skintight jeans in a matter of seconds. The red lace panties followed. I kicked off my own clothes, and my nipples hardened at the realization that I was now naked in the same room as her.

  Holy hell. She really was beautiful. Her muscles usually stood out at the gym when she was working out, but in this environment, they were smoother. A few shiny, silvery scars—one on her elbow, some smaller ones above her hip—caught the light and made her somehow more . . . human. As if those subtle imperfections transformed her from a flawless, untouchable being to a flesh and blood mortal who I could touch, tease, taste.

  I gestured for her to join me as I lay back on the bad. Grinning, she climbed onto the mattress beside me, then on top of me, and as she sank down into my arms and my kiss, her skin warmed mine. It had been too damn long since I’d felt another person’s body heat like this, and that, more than anything, overwhelmed me. After too long at a lover’s arm’s length, I was with someone who wanted nothing more than to get as close as possible.

  It didn’t hurt that her smooth, toned body was even hotter to touch than it was to look at. She’d always seemed so rough around the edges, but like this, without the rigid professionalism at work or the exertion at the gym, her figure was all soft curves and smooth contours. Like a newly revealed secret side of her that no one else at work or the gym knew about. If only for tonight, this version of Natalya was mine. All mine.

  And damn it, what better way to exorcise an ex than to take someone new into the bed we’d shared for the last few years? I’d deal with regrets and a hangover tomorrow. Tonight? I was all about Natalya. About the woman who’d tongue-tied me at work and occupied my fantasies for ages and was suddenly here, naked, in my bed and in my arms . . .

  Now that we were here, neither of us was in any hurry. We explored each other’s mouths, necks, breasts. We slipped our hands between each other’s thighs, and even as we both gasped and trembled, there was no rush to get me or her off. The alcohol had nothing on Natalya. On how dizzy and giddy I was as we lay there in the middle of my bed, teasing clits and gasping between kisses.

  Somewhere in my tipsy, overwhelmed brain, I knew how weird this was. We worked together. And we were going at light speed—it hadn’t been that long since she’d first kissed me, had it? Or since she’d broken up with her boyfriend?

  But that confused little voice was quickly fading away because I was too drunk, too turned on, and too intrigued by this hot, aggressive woman who’d materialized in my bed.

  Natalya broke the kiss and started downward. She was on a much more determined path this time—not lingering on my collarbone or my nipple—with more and more distance between each kiss until she reached my hip.

  I held my breath. Yes, yes, please . . .

  She pushed my legs apart, and I barely noticed the ache in my muscles, because a split second later, she kissed the inside o
f my thigh. I closed my eyes, and then . . . God . . . her mouth was on my pussy.

  And . . .

  Jesus . . .

  She knew what she was doing.

  I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what her technique was, only that on first contact, she had me coming unglued. Every sweep of her tongue, every gentle tug with her lips—fuck!

  I kneaded the sheets with my fingers. Arched off the mattress. Squeezed my eyes shut. I almost never came when I’d been drinking, but Natalya wasn’t having it—whatever she was doing had me on a one-way bullet train to an orgasm.

  “Oh shit,” I breathed. “Keep . . . keep doing . . .”

  Everything went white. My knees and shoulders came up, as if the force of my orgasm was pulling all my extremities toward the source of this blinding, earth-shattering pleasure. My own voice distantly registered, but hell if I knew what I was saying.

  All at once, it was too much. I pushed her head away and collapsed, panting and shaking. The room was spinning even faster now, my vision sparkling around the edges. Holy. Fuck.

  Natalya came back up to me, and I grabbed her and pulled her down, and she kissed me hard, her mouth sweet from my pussy, and now I wanted—needed—to taste hers as well. But not until I’d caught my breath. Which I wasn’t going to do when I was making out with her. Which . . . whatever. I ran my fingers through her hair and opened to her aggressive, demanding, tangy kiss.

  But that taste . . . that orgasm . . .

  It was definitely time to return the favor after she’d made me come like that. And although she obviously liked being in control, she let me roll her onto her back without resisting in the slightest. Now it was my turn to work my way south, but I wasn’t quite so focused as she’d been. I took my time on her neck, pausing on her collarbone before inching down to her chest.

  I held her nipple between my teeth and fluttered the tip with my tongue, my skin prickling with goose bumps when she moaned. I glanced up to see her biting her lip, eyes heavy-lidded and locked on mine. She licked her lips, reminding me of the way her kiss had tasted and of how much I wanted to taste her.